


And if we only die once

by stargazers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Auror!Draco, Fluff, M/M, Pining, auror!Harry, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazers/pseuds/stargazers
Summary: Draco's acting suspicious - naturally, Harry follows him.(In which Draco has a hot date and Harry may or may not pluck up the courage to finally do something.)





	And if we only die once

‘Target leaves back door of- what in Merlin’s name does that _say_ \- residence? at 18:05, casts spell (wand movements detailed on page 3) before stepping into the river and walking through it towards the--- For goodness _sake_ , Potter.’

Harry quickly moved away from where he was peering at his report over Draco’s shoulder to glance up at the man as they walked briskly – at least Draco did, Harry was having a hard time keeping up- down the hall.

‘What?,’ he asked, aiming for irritated but coming out along the lines of defensive. Well, he _was_ allowed to act defensive; he had whipped up that report in record time with as much detail as possible, and he honestly wished he had forgotten to cross-check it with his bloody prick of a partner. It was solid in Harry’s eyes, and Head Auror Robards was more interested in the details of the criminal’s capture than how many i’s he replaced with e’s.

Draco just shot him an incredulous look, eyebrows raised and eyes horrified, as if Harry had just told him Ron was in love with him.

‘One does not _walk through a river_ ; he _wades_ -‘

‘I doubt Robards would give a shite if he bloody skipped through the river, Draco, just read on!,’ Harry huffed, trying to snatch back his report, only to have Draco hold it up higher. It would be a lot easier if the man wasn’t practically running down the halls, or if he didn’t have such long limbs, or if Harry wasn’t trying not to lean in too close to Draco’s solid warmth…

Enough of that.

‘He poisoned the bloody water supply, Potter, I think it matters how he managed to get into it,’ Draco declared with a tone of finality, and Harry just rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses tiredly before nodding. He couldn’t argue when the wanker was right.

‘Whatever, Malfoy. Just correct it as you go along, then, if it shuts you up.’

Draco peered down at him, Harry staring resolutely forward even as the grey gaze burnt through his temples, before a light laugh broke out from next to him.

‘Malfoy is it, now? What happened to _Dracoooo?_ ,’ he cooed in Harry’s ear, amusement rich in his voice, and Harry tried hard not to give in, because Merlin knew what he’d give to see one of Draco’s genuine smiles. They were more and more frequent as months went on, but just as bright and breath-taking as the first one Harry saw on their first mission together, the two of them staking out in the rain. Harry had slipped and landed face-first in a pile of mud, and though he expected Draco to laugh at that, what he didn’t expect was for him to openly grin as Harry splashed mud onto his pristine Auror robes. It was the most amusing, if not messiest, 5 hours of watching an empty house in the middle of the night he ever had.

‘ _Draco_ is being a prat and turning into a much more irritating version of Hermione, and- why are we headed for the showers?,’ Harry stopped abruptly, glancing at Malfoy in confusion. Harry had a training session in the morning and had already taken one, and if Malfoy was steering him towards them to shove Harry back in the spray because he reeked, he was going to tell him exactly where to shove it. It had happened before.

‘I-,’ Draco cleared his throat, and much to Harry’s surprise and further confusion, a light pink flushed over his sharp cheekbones. ‘I just had training, so I am in need of a shower.’

Harry wondered if Draco had hit his head somewhere and lost all sense.

‘Yes,’ he spoke slowly. ‘But you always Apparate home for one like a ponce because you hate the Ministry soap.’

Draco wrinkled his nose. ‘Lavender, how cliché.’

‘Err… I feel like I should ask if everything is alright at home?’

Draco finally sighed, looking back at Harry with a roll of his eyes.

‘Fine, Potter, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I have somewhere to be at around---,’ Draco paused to cast a quick tempus, and apparently didn’t like what he saw because he was suddenly thrusting Harry’s reports back at him and dashing through the door with a loud ‘fuck!’

Well, that was a first.

-

Their shared office was too quiet for Harry to work comfortably in, he had gotten used to the scratch of Draco’s quill against parchment and the soft murmurs to himself, and so he had spent the better half of an hour re-reading his report without taking anything in. Harry stopped doodling what looked like an awful hippogriff in the corner of his report and heaved a sigh; even when the blond wasn’t in the room, he managed to make Harry lose his focus.

Being Trainee partners with Draco was good and felt right in a way not much else did in Harry’s life. It was almost as if someone had grabbed everything and tilted it on an axis, just enough for things to make sense but still feel strange and out of place. Ron and Hermione were engaged, had already bought a house together while Ron helped his brother out with the shop and Hermione dived into Wizarding law. Ginny was playing Quidditch around the world, doing what she loved. Luna and Neville owned a joint plants and herbs shop and were more than just business partners, in Harry’s opinion. It was childish of him to want things to stay the same, to want Ron and Hermione for himself the way they had always been, to want to yank everyone back to the glacial pace with which he moved.

It had taken a while to find out what he wanted, and after a thousand letters from Kingsley asking him if he had considered his Auror training offer, he had finally given it a shot, if not because he was dying of boredom cooped up in his massive, empty house. It was all about fighting and remaining calm, jumping into things while remaining logical, putting in heart but not letting emotions overrule. It was a delicate balance and too much at once, and perhaps it was the lack of Ron by his side or the six infatuated partners – could they be called partners if they lasted for two days?- Harry was assigned to that really put him off of becoming an Auror. Funnily enough, he was on his way to Kingsley’s office, just about to resign, when Draco Malfoy had stepped out, purple Trainee robes donned.

The first case they had been assigned together was difficult and frustrating, but after the first day of shouting their heads off at each other over the littlest things, they began to relent and let each other’s ideas and opinions in. Draco was calculating and quick where Harry was bold and reckless, and somewhere between late nights brainstorming in their office to staking out for hours on end, _Malfoy_ had become _Draco_ and instead of a sneer every time he spoke, Harry was sometimes rewarded with a smile, and on one coffee-fuelled night Harry will never forget, Draco had grinned and called him _brilliant._

Harry couldn’t stop grinning himself at the memory, and in a random burst of courage, he decided that this was it.

Today was the day he’d ask Draco out. He could feel it in his bones.

The door burst open and Draco stepped in, mouth moving and already talking a mile a minute. Harry wasn’t paying attention.

‘Draco, I wanted to ask you something-

‘-page 7, the properties of Hemlock vary with region, as I’m sure you know, so I’ll have to specify what type we’re looking into,’ was all Harry heard and he nodded dumbly, but Draco was too busy tucking his wand to notice.

Harry never thought he’d see the day Draco Malfoy wore Muggle clothes, and not just any old jeans and t-shirt. Draco was wearing the tightest jeans Harry had ever seen, black and ripped at the knees, and it was like they were tailored to fit his long, lean legs. The white shirt was a lot safer, plain and simple, except for it’s translucent fabric; Harry could make out the nubs of his nipples and it left his mouth dry. He had never seen Malfoy in anything but his Trainee robes, or occasionally a set of plain black, elegant robes for when they worked weekends. Their flattering cut and quality were the only things that revealed Draco’s body; high collars and full sleeves were nothing compared to… _this._ Even at school, Harry didn’t recall ever seeing so much pale, unblemished skin, or being able to trace the curve of Draco’s arse with his eyes. Not that he was.

What made it worse was that Draco’s long hair, often hung loose around his face or pulled into a messy bun, was tied up high with a black band and cascaded down to his shoulders, revealing the nape of his neck. Harry was transfixed, staring as Draco turned around to shuffle some files; it felt so intimate.

‘Potter?’

Harry snapped up to Draco’s face, which looked much younger and almost vulnerable with his hair out of the way, leaving only clear eyes, sharp cheekbones and soft-looking lips on display. Harry tried to keep his eyes on Draco’s.

‘Er…yes?’

Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry was almost relieved to see the familiar expression. For a minute there, he was convinced Draco had been replaced by an imposter. Or an angel. Or the Devil. That body was fucking _sinful._

‘I said,’ Draco emphasized, ‘that I will be taking an early leave and will return the report to you by tomorrow morning.’

Harry frowned. Draco never took early leaves.

‘Is that alright?,’ Draco urged at Harry’s silence, and Harry cleared his throat.

‘Yeah, yeah, of course. I,’ Harry coughed again, trying not to feel anything as Draco nodded and gathered his things up to leave. ‘Where are you going?,’ he asked a bit too loudly, almost hysterically.

‘Nowhere,’ was the immediate reply, and Harry just raised an eyebrow as Draco shuffled his work bag in his hand.

‘Nowhere, dressed like that?’

Okay, Harry had no idea why his voice came out so low and…growly. He didn’t even know what it meant.

Draco just glanced down, almost as if he was seeing his clothes for the first time, and when he looked back up at Harry, his cheeks were flushed and there was something new in his eyes. Harry couldn’t figure it out, there was just too much happening.

‘I--- do I look okay?,’ he asked almost hesitantly, and Harry was too busy reeling from the fact that Draco Malfoy had asked for Harry’s opinion on his clothes to offer a reply before Draco went on. ‘Pansy sent these from France for the evening, and she’s had my measurements practically memorised, so I figured they’d fit right. I’ve never worn Muggle clothes before, so I haven’t the faintest idea if they’re supposed to look this way.’

Harry swallowed hard. ‘They do. Fit right. You look…’

_Stunning. Beautiful. Breath-taking. Delicious. So fucking fit I want to stare at you forever._

‘…good.’

Draco’s eyes dimmed, and Harry wanted to kick himself for saying the wrong thing, but surely he had just imagined the disappointed look in those grey eyes. Why would Draco care what Harry thought of him?

‘Right,’ Draco said, and somehow, the word was cutting. He looked down at his left arm, wincing, before walking over to Harry. He reached over and Harry held his breath as the scent of lavender soap and spice and _Draco_ washed over him, and didn’t even realise what had happened until Draco was shrugging on his black leather jacket.

‘You said you hated that thing this morning!’

‘Well, that was this morning,’ Draco drawled, fixing the collar of the jacket. His hair was caught underneath it, and in one fluid movement, Draco pulled it free; silver-blond hair shining in the warm light of their office. ‘You said you wanted to ask me something?’

The distracted tone of his voice was enough to ward away Harry’s courage, and he shook his head, watching helplessly as Draco walked out the door, perfect arse in perfect jeans, wearing Harry’s clothes to Merlin knows where, and tried once again to stop loving him.

-

Draco shivered the second he Apparated into the cold night; it was November and it was far too chilly to be wearing such thin clothing. The cold was enough to distract him from his thoughts for a while, but they eventually seeped back in and Draco gave up.

He probably looked ridiculous in the Muggle clothes, but for a fleeting moment, with Potter’s eyes trained to his body, he had thought that maybe, _maybe_ this little thing of his wasn’t one-sided. Maybe Potter finally realised that he wanted Draco as much as he wanted him, that hey, maybe he thought Draco was no longer the snooty brat of his younger years, maybe he was smart and funny and likable.

There was a reason Draco did not indulge in wishful thinking, and he cursed himself for ever hoping for the impossible. A cold breeze ruffled through him and he wrapped Potter’s jacket tighter around his body, buried in the rich, earthy scent of Potter. It almost felt like a hug.

‘Pathetic, Draco,’ he scoffed at himself, casting a Warming charm so he wouldn’t have an excuse to smell the jacket. ‘You’re about to go on a date with another man, forget about bloody Potter.’

Yes, he was about to go on a date. Draco deserved a chance at a relationship, and he silently thanked Pansy for setting him up with a half decent person, no matter how much he had complained. Sebastien was a half-blood, or so he had been told, but had all the class and social lifestyle of a pure-blood, minus the prejudice, and hence Pansy had urged him to wear Muggle clothing. _Casual, comfortable and shows you’re not a bigoted pure-blood. Plus, no one could resist you in those jeans,_ she had said with a wink over the Floo.

Draco half-wished he had just gone with his normal robes; he was tired of playing pretend, and though he couldn’t care less about blood or class anymore – he had that lesson drilled into him good and proper- he wasn’t someone who wore skin tight clothing or indulged in Muggle fashion.

Draco swallowed hard as he stepped into the restaurant; it was small, casual and Italian, what Sebastien seemed to prefer, and barely made it two steps before an arm waved up in his direction from the back. Putting on his best smile, Draco approached the table to find the man sprawled across his seat, arm over the sofa rest.

He was handsome, that was for sure, but it was in a way that Draco noticed in passing, like he would think _Oh, that tea is hot_ , and there was something about the confident smirk that made Draco bristle.

‘Sebastien?,’ he asked weakly, trying to settle for a charming smile as the man nodded and shook his hand warmly, grip a bit too tight.

‘That’s me,’ he grinned, sitting back down as Draco took a seat across from him, sitting up straight. He couldn’t help but notice that his hair was not dark enough, and that his eyes were blue and not green, and then realised how ridiculous he was acting. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

‘So, tell me about yourself?,’ Sebastien asked, resting his head on a hand and pinning his sharp gaze on Draco, watching his every move, and Draco tried not to feel like he was being interrogated. Was this how dates were supposed to go? He silently cursed his father for getting involved with bald psychopaths and robbing him of his chance to do normal things like go on dates and try and appear charming. It was hard because unlike other things Draco was used to, he wasn’t sure which part of himself he was supposed to charm with. His intellect, his humour? Would Sebastien want to hear about one of his cases? Maybe about his family?

Sebastien himself talked very little; well, to be fair, he talked a lot but didn’t say much. Just vague comments about work – from what Draco could infer between _‘oh, you know’_ and ‘ _stuff like that’_ , he was a broom mechanic, which Draco thought was pretty fucking cool, but shrugged off Draco’s inquiry for more details. He studied in France and had recently moved here, had a pet kneazle and that was pretty much all he was interested in telling him.

The wine arrived, and after taking a long gulp, Draco threw caution to the wind and began talking, and he was telling one of his favorite stories about a Potions accident thathappened just after Hogwarts, it was rather hilarious, when he noticed a foot boldly brush up his calf. He stopped talking abruptly, blinking to find Sebsastien’s gaze trained hungrily to his mouth, and trying to brush away the disappointment that came with the realisation that he wasn’t being listened to. He was probably boring the man to death with his talk- for fuck’s sake, Draco, who talks about _potions_ on a date?

‘No, don’t stop talking,’ he murmured, voice husky as the foot brushed higher up. It was a strange feeling, not entirely comfortable, and he had a feeling he was supposed to be aroused and not just irritated that the man was probably tracking dirt on his jeans. Draco was sure he still had that ability, if his reaction to whenever Potter stared at him with that intense, green gaze or pressed into Draco’s side for too long was any indication, and he had had experiences in gay clubs and the like before concluding that emotionless sex between strangers didn’t do much for him. He wanted passion and feeling and hot mouths, but it was clear that wasn’t what Sebastien was looking for.

‘Right,’ Draco said wryly, resisting the urge to pull his leg away and taking another bite of his food.

-

It was the right thing to do, of course it was, Harry reasoned with himself as a wave a guilt washed over him as he followed Draco into a quaint little restaurant. Draco was acting unusual, and Harry just wanted to make sure he was okay, and then he would leave.

Watching Draco have dinner with another Wizard behind a pillar and concluding that yes, he was okay, same from harm, had the opposite effect. Instead, he watched quietly, something hot and burning and angry settling in his stomach as the man, Sebastien, stared openly at Draco’s pink lips and grinned at him over their meal. They were on a _date._

And Harry really tried giving Sebastien a chance, it wasn’t fair to hate on the guy because Harry really wanted to steal his date, but the man wasn’t even paying attention to Draco. Harry watched, entranced, as Draco’s face broke out in a smile as he talked about Teddy’s hair mishaps, about their missions, and had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at a few of Draco’s stories. He was brilliant, radiant in the soft yellow light, and Harry wanted so badly to be on the other end of those smiles, those stories. To gaze softly at Draco across the table, content.

Sebastien, whoever, just wanted to get in Draco’s pants, and Harry wanted to punch his leer away.

‘Hey, how about we get dessert to go? It’s getting late and there are other things,’ he said meaningfully, glancing down at Draco’s lips, ‘that I’d like to get to.’

_Maybe if you’d get your mind out of the gutter long enough to hear what Draco’s saying, you’d actually have a chance, you cheap wanker._

Harry felt giddy as he waited for Draco’s pride and anger to take control as it always did and send this guy packing _._

Instead, Draco took a deep breath, and flashed a strained smile. He looked tired, like a flower beginning to wilt, and Harry wanted to put that brilliant smile back on his face more than anything.

‘Of course,’ he said quietly, and the man practically lit up. ‘Let me just head over to the restroom,’ he mumbled, standing up, and Harry quickly got up and swerved away from the pillar, trying to remain out of sight. He walked towards the back of the restaurant, searching for the back entrance, when he stumbled right into a lean chest and a familiar scent.

Shit.

He looked up at Draco’s grey eyes, beautiful and clear, and the words just slipped out of his mouth.

‘Are you really going to leave with him?

‘Wh---What the _fuck_ , Potter?,’ Draco exclaimed, sputtering, cheeks bright red, and Harry cringed, searching for a way to get out of the mess he’d made. There was no way out, he just had to stick to his guns.

‘He’s just using you!’

Draco’s face only hardened into cold anger as he crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Fuck off,’ he said very clearly, very quietly, before pushing past Harry and through the back door, walking into the night, voice trembling with an anger he hadn’t heard since the first day they worked together. Harry had a sinking feeling that he really fucked up.

‘Draco, wait!’

‘Why?,’ he sneered, whirling around, and Harry swallowed hard. ‘Why should I listen to anything you have to say, after you followed me here – don’t even deny it, I know you hate Italian. Did you think I was running off to some Death Eater reunion party, is that it?’

Harry paled, shaking his head vehemently.

‘No, Draco! Of course not!’

‘Then why did you follow me?’

Harry licked his lips, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

‘I was curious, alright,’ he admitted. ‘I-I’ve never seen you like this before, you never leave early, and I was just…curious. Because Merlin knows I’m helpless when it comes to you,’ he mumbled and watched as Draco stared down at him with wide, confused eyes.

‘But that’s besides the point. You can’t go with him, he doesn’t even like you!’

‘Right, thanks,’ Draco said quietly after a long moment of silence, anger and hurt evident in his voice, and Harry flushed hard in mortification and anger with himself as he reached out to grab Draco’s arm as the man turned to leave.

‘ _No_ , what I meant was that he just wants to…do things with you,’ Harry tried to hastily recover. At Draco’s silent glare, Harry waved his free hand in a vague gesture to indicate Draco’s body.

‘You know what I mean,’ he muttered, swallowing hard.

‘As incoherent as you are, I do know what you mean, just as I know exactly what Sebastien wants from me. I don’t need you interfering, Potter,’ Draco said, the cold back in his voice, and Harry gaped helplessly.

‘So you’re just going to let him?’

Draco laughed at that, humourless and bitter, and Harry wanted to hold him to a fire and warm him up. Coax a smile out of him, a laugh.

‘This may come as a surprise to you, seeing as any witch or wizard with a functioning brain would pounce at you at a single bat of your ridiculous lashes, but it’s nice to feel wanted, sometimes, even if it’s just for my body,’ Draco spat, except the words had lost their spite. They sounded empty; hollow and sad, and Harry couldn’t stand to hear the twinge of resignation in his words.

Like he actually believed what he was saying.

There was only one thing to do.

The kiss was hard and passionate at first as Harry tried to pour in all his feelings, and then became something gentle, something _real_ when Draco finally kissed back, soft lips moving against his own and cold hands burying in his hair. Harry wanted to kiss Draco forever, feel the soft sigh of his breath against his lips, feel his body against his hands.

‘You are wanted, you idiot,’ Harry whispered against his lips, trying to pull away, but Draco’s lips where red and swollen and Harry dove back in for another kiss. He pulled away, staring into Draco’s wide eyes, bringing his hands to cup Draco’s face, thumb caressing his cheeks.

‘It was wrong of me to follow you tonight, I know, and wrong of me to have a say in what you do with your life. But the thought of you settling for that absolute prat-,’ Harry broke off, trying to reign in his anger.

‘I want you so much, Draco,’ he said sincerely, gazing into pale, wide eyes. ‘I wish I had the courage to tell you this sooner, but I want your annoying spelling corrections, your insults, your complaining. I want you casting by my side through every case, want to hear your stories and laugh with you over dinner, and to kiss you until we’re both feeling dizzy.’

Draco looked frozen for a moment longer, before a smile lit up his face, quickly morphing into a grin as his hands tightened around Harry’s waist.

‘How terribly romantic, Potter. Didn’t know you had it in you,’ he said, even as leaned in to pull Harry close, resting his head in the crook of Harry’s neck.

‘Yeah, well. You bring out the worst in me,’ Harry grinned, trying not to whoop with joy. Draco was a pleasant weight against him, even if he clung onto Harry a bit too tightly, and his hair smelled like heaven.

‘So, does this mean you want me, too?’

Draco answered by diving in for another sweet kiss, one that had Harry feeling light-headed with want, before pulling back to grin.

‘Spelling mistakes and all.’

-

_Dear Sebastien,_

_Yes, I did receive your ghastly letters, seven of them. I am in a generous mood this morning, seeing as I had a wonderful night after leaving your boring presence, and I do hate to be impolite, so I will say this: it is not me, it’s you, and I’m afraid it would never have worked out between us. Such a shame to miss out on such scintillating conversation, I know._

_Never owl me again,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

**Author's Note:**

> literally 3 am gibberish, probably filled with tons of spelling mistakes, but oh well <3


End file.
